


The Medusa Challenge

by Word_Devourer



Series: Marichat:  You want it?  You got it. [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Bottle Story, But what are you going to do, Chat Noir Can't Transform, F/M, Fluff, Injured Chat Noir, It's an occupational hazard at that point., Look it's just a lot of them not being able to not fall into each other's arms, Marinette didn't sign up for this, Marinette signed up for a school trip, Recovery, She's basically blind and he's paralyzed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-14 08:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17505425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Word_Devourer/pseuds/Word_Devourer
Summary: Chat Noir's identity is his greatest secret.  That's why he wears a mask.So, when he finds himself unable to transform, barely able to move and trapped in Marinette's room until he recovers, they'll have to avoid looking at each other at all costs.That might be... a bit of a challenge.





	1. A Gentle Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> This should be a much shorter story than my last one.

The mattress of Adrien’s bed felt warm and comforting as he drifted out of unconsciousness.  His arm was under his head, and he yawned as his eyes flicked open.

It took him a second to realize what was wrong, as he stared blearily into some kind of pinkish fabric.

His bed was blue.

This wasn’t his bed.

He became aware of a faint grumbling lower down on his body.

He shifted where he lay, and registered for the first time that there was a blanket on him.

“Plagg?” he said.

“Oh, finally,” said Plagg, “you couldn’t have woken up 20 minutes ago?”

“What happened 20 minutes ago?”

“Villain hit you so hard you passed out.  You’d probably have a concussion if Ladybug hadn’t set things back.”

“And… Ladybug won?”

“Yeah, she’s good like that.  Also you kind of exploded.”

“What!?”

“You had a cataclysm, lost control of it.”

“Oh… And… Did anyone get hurt?”

“You.  I don’t think you’ll be able to transform for a day or two.”

“That’s not good, what if Hawkmoth-

“Yeah, he’s not gonna be able to, either.”

“What?  Why?”

“Cataclysm’s good at disrupting things.  It hit the villain, the villain was linked to him, he gets the same treatment you did.  Whoever he is, he’s probably gonna be just as bedridden as you.”

“…Oh.  Well that’s… Good, I guess.”

“You’re awake!”

He knew that voice.  He tried to roll, turn to face her, but there was a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re detransformed.  If you turn around, I’ll know who you are.”

“Oh.  Right.”

“You might not remember me,” she said, “I’m Marinette? You helped me out when Evillustrator attacked?  And… Um… You also showed up when I was feeling sad?  Back before Glaciator showed up?”

“Of course I remember you,” he said, “how could I forget?”

A silence.  “Well.  Ladybug brought you here, when you were unconscious.  She couldn’t take care of you herself, since her time was running out, but she told me to keep an eye on you.”

“Ladybug knows you, then.”

“Well,” said Marinette, “I…  If you remember, it was _her_ who told you to come visit, the first time.”

“I guess it was,” he said.

“And I guess she thought that I was her best bet for not finding out your identity.”

“So Ladybug’s counting on you to not be curious?”

“Not to _act_ on it,” she corrected. “Besides, my parents were heading out of town anyway, so there shouldn’t be any awkward questions.”

“Of course.”  He sighed.  “I’ll try to be out of here as soon as possible.” he pushed, and…

His arm trembled with the effort of lifting him the barest distance from where he was lying.

“I…” he said, voice shaking.  He collapsed back down.  “Okay, maybe as soon as possible doesn’t mean right now.”

“Yeah, _no,”_ said Plagg, slipping up in front of him, looking down at him.  “ _Especially_ since you’ve never had this happen before.”

He chuckled, weakly.  “Right.  I should probably introduce you two.  Marinette, this is Plagg, my kwami. Plagg, meet Marinette.”

Plagg snorted.  “Oh trust me, I know all about Marinette.”

Plagg grinned at his shocked, almost panicked expression (and, though he couldn’t see it, the near identical one from Marinette).

“Anyway,” said Plagg, “you’ll be down for a bit.  Think of it as a sick day.  Maybe two sick days.”

He didn’t say anything.  He’d never had a ‘sick day’ before.  His father would never… His father wouldn’t even notice his absence right now.  He was _supposed_ to be on a school trip, which his father had agreed to after _significant_ pleading.

It had been painful, but he’d to cancelled it on the day they were supposed to leave, when a villain attacked.  If Hawkmoth was going to attack Paris, he’d want to be available at all hours.  He’d thought he was the unluckiest boy in Paris, but… Looking back, he couldn’t believe his luck.

He’d managed to fall through the cracks in his own usually airtight schedule at the perfect time.  At least, if nothing else, he’d get to know Marinette better.  That would be nice, wouldn’t it?

\--

Marinette was _not_ appreciating this.

She had to keep an eye on him for at _least_ a day, possibly more, judging by what Plagg had said.  A boy whose face she couldn’t even look at.  She wouldn’t be able to talk to Tikki, for fear of him hearing and putting things together.  She’d already given him one of her blankets, and frankly, she didn’t feel up to trying to swap it out from one of the downstairs that went on the sofa.  She couldn’t even justify turning him away from a personal perspective because he’d sustained the injuries saving Paris, and… Well, she did care about him.  Of course she did.

Really, it shouldn’t have been so bad.  She could easily make sure he had food, water, a warm place to sleep.  Her parents were supposed to be back in three days, so he’d _definitely_ be gone by the time they returned.  She probably wouldn’t even mind the fact that she’d probably have to keep him company while he recovered.

It shouldn’t have been so bad, and it _wouldn’t_ have been, had it not been for what she was missing.

There had been a school trip; a few days out of the city, a few museums to maintain the illusion that education was going on.  It was supposed to be a good time, and she’d heard, from reliable sources, that Adrien would be able to make it.

Adrien was supposed to be there, and, more to the point, there was a _dance._   It wasn’t a fancy one, but…  The mere concept of dancing with Adrien made her heart beat faster, a feeling that had only intensified after they’d danced at Chloe’s party.

But where was she?  She was sitting in her room, taking care of Chat Noir.

She looked up at the clock.

9 in the evening.  It was a Friday, so she didn’t have school in the morning, which meant…

Normally, she would have stayed up late, but right now, did she really want to do that?

No.  She would know, constantly, that Chat Noir was directly behind her.  If he made a noise, would she be able to safely turn around?  What if he wanted to watch what she was doing?  Wasn’t curiosity a defining trait for cats?  Did he actually have catlike traits?

She looked down at him, and rubbed at her eyes.

“I think I’ll go to bed now,” she said.

“Oh,” he said.  “Okay.  I’m… Pretty tired, too.”

“And the sooner you’re back, the better,” she said.

There was a hesitation, and he nodded, the motion muffled by the blankets.  “Of course.  I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

She looked over at him, and shook her head.  “Not like that,” she said, grabbing some pajamas from her closet.

She slipped downstairs, to the bathroom, and got changed.

“Oh, good,” he said as she came back up the ladder, “I thought you were gone for good or something, and I was hoping you’d turn off the lights.”

She laughed.  “Of course I’m going to turn off the lights.  ‘The sun may be cheap, but lightbulbs aren’t.’”  She paused.  “That’s what my dad says.”

“Ah,” he said, as she flicked the lights off.

“Oh,” he said, as she climbed into bed.  “Am I…  Am I in your bedroom right now?”

She looked down at him, now obscured by darkness.

“Yes?” she said.  “Is that a problem?”

“Oh,” he said, groaning as he shifted slightly.  “No, that’s I didn’t realize…  I can’t really see much, here.  I just…  I don’t know where I thought I was.”

“Hm,” she said, “sorry about… Everything.  You know why it has to go like this, though.”

“Of course!” he said.  “Of course.”

She sighed.  “Good night, Chat Noir.”

There was a long pause, and then, so quietly she almost didn’t hear it… “Good night, Marinette.”


	2. Down the Ladder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logistics are a pain when one of you is effectively blind and the other is practically paralyzed.  
> But these are the heroes of Paris! Their minds are ever resourceful. Sometimes, Marinette's finds things to think even when she's not looking for them.

Marinette woke up in the morning, without even the assistance of her alarm (side-effects of getting to bed at a reasonable hour, she supposed)

She rolled over onto her side with the intent of taking in the sunlight she expected to be streaming through the window.

Immediately, she rolled back, and, for a second, stared at her ceiling. 

Tikki looked up from the corner where she had been sleeping.  After a second, Marinette let out a relieved sigh; she hadn’t made out his face.

Marinette shook her head, putting up a hand as a reassurance.

After a second, Tikki nodded once, long and slow.

So he had rolled over in his sleep.  Presumably, that meant he was a bit stronger than he had been.

She shouldn’t have been surprised, but somehow, she hadn’t even considered the option.

Okay.  Okay, she could handle this.

Marinette closed her eyes, and let out a breath.

She sat up, and felt around.

There.  The ladder.

She swung her legs over the side of her bed.  Carefully, she turned around, and let her eyes open as she climbed down the ladder.

So.  The chaise longue was behind her and to the left, right?

She nodded slowly, trying to fix the location in her mind.

Closing her eyes again, she turned around.

Slowly, unsteadily, she walked forward.

The distance seemed far longer than it should have, but eventually, her shin bumped against the chaise.

\--

At a bump, Adrien’s eyes opened again.

He’d been in a gentle dream where it had been Ladybug taking care of him.  As he woke up, he found it was Marinette above him, reaching slowly out towards him.

Strange as it was to think, he couldn’t quite be disappointed at the change.  Not that he wouldn’t have chosen Ladybug, given the choice, but rather, he couldn’t find any reason to be disappointed with Marinette other than that she _wasn’t_ Ladybug.

Her hands, gentle and warm, touched down on his chest.

“Good morning, Marinette,” he said, and she jumped back, thumping into the ground.

He tried to scramble to his feet so he could help her to hers.

Unfortunately, while some small fraction of his strength had returned, it wasn’t enough to get him to his feet.

He slammed to the ground, stomach landing directly on one of her feet.

She scrambled back, and as he looked up, he saw that he eyes were still tightly shut.

After a few seconds, the panic subsided, and they both stopped moving.

“Um…” she said.  “Sorry about that, I… I looked over, and you were facing me?  So, I wanted to turn you the other way, so I wouldn’t… You know.”

“Of course,” he said, “That makes sense.  Sorry for scaring you.”

She laughed, clearly a bit abashed.  It was, though he wouldn’t have said it out loud, a little adorable.  “No, that’s fine.  I just… Didn’t expect you to be awake.”

“Well,” he said, grabbing ahold of the chaise, hauling himself into a sitting position, “I am.  I should probably get back… Wait.”

“What?”

“Um…” he said.  “Well… It’s… Um…”

“Chat Noir?”

“I… I need to go to the bathroom.”

“You—” Marinette sighed.  “You would, wouldn’t you.”

“Yeah.  Human things, right?”

“Right.”

“If it helps,” he said, hauling himself up onto the chaise, with a groan. “if you can get me _into the room,_ I should be fine from there.”

Marinette rubbed at her eyes.

\--

Well.  It was better than it could have been, right?

That wasn’t saying much, though.  She was still just Marinette, which meant she’d have to get him down the stairs, without any extra strength, any extra agility, or even being able to _see._

“Alright,” she said, “I guess we should get going, then.”  She reached out.  “Take my hand.”

He groaned again, and she felt his hand, warm, but feeble, slap against hers.  His fingers tightened slightly, and she heard him sigh, and realized that this was his best effort.

She gripped his hand with one hand, and his wrist with the other, and _pulled._

For a second, it almost felt like she couldn’t even get him to his feet, but he slowly began to shift, and then, all at once, his whole body fell against her.

“Sorry!  Sorry,” he said from right behind her ear, and she could feel his feet slap weakly against the ground as he tried to extricate himself slightly.

After a few seconds of careful maneuvering, she had an arm around his torso, and he had an arm slung over her neck.

“Okay,” she said, “I can’t… See anything.  So, I’ll need you to… Well…  Be my eyes?”

Chat Noir let out a shaky breath.  “If you’ve got the legs, I can get the eyes.”

“Mhm,” she groaned, legs already complaining about holding up the weight of two people.

“Alright,” he said, and she could feel him craning his neck.

“Right turn.”  They shuffled slowly around.

“Good, good,” he said.  “Now.  Forward march!”

One step.  Two steps.  Three.  Four.

Were they close yet?

Five, six, seven, and-

“That’s enough.  We are… At the trap door.”

“Oh.  Right.  So now, we have to get you down the stairs.”

“Yup,” he said.

“The door’s closed, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay,” she nodded, “then… I’m going to have to put you down.”

“Got it,” he said.

She tried to kneel down slowly, but halfway through, lost her balance, and they collapsed to the ground.

“Ow,” said Chat Noir, voice slightly muddled.  “Okay.  We’re here.  If you can pull the door open, we can try… We can try to get me down the stairs.

Marinette nodded, grimly.  They’d only done the easy part.

She reached out and down, and recoiled as her fingers poked something soft.

“Just my face,” he said, “sorry, I’m a little on the ground here.”

“Right,” she said, and reached out again.

Her hand hit the trap door, and she felt around, and for a long second, couldn’t find what she was looking for.

There was a hand on her wrist, and she let Chat Noir guide her to the handle.

“Thanks,” she said, pulling up.

“No problem,” he said, and she’d swear she could hear him smiling, “You wanted me to keep an eye out for you, I’ll do it.”

“Alright,” she said, pulling herself back from the hole, “how are we going to do this?”

A long silence.  “Do you have a pulley system?”

She didn’t say anything, and hoped her expression conveyed her response.

He snorted.  “Okay, okay.  No pulleys.”

\--

He heaved himself up to his elbows, and contemplated the drop.

Honestly, he’d probably survive it if he just flopped over the edge, but… He’d probably end up concussed and unable to help her help him.  She either be forced to learn his identity or just hope for the best.

So…

“Okay,” he said, “what if… I go down like it’s stairs, and try to lean backwards so I don’t fall.  Probably kind of dangerous, but if you keep a hold on my shoulders…”

“Press you back into the ladder,” she finished.  “Alright.”

“Cool,” he said, “I’ll just need to get into position, then.”

He began to shimmy himself gracelessly around, newly grateful for the fact that she couldn’t see him.

“Alright,” he said, eventually.  “give me a second to catch my breath.”

She sat down cross-legged, and waited, as he lay on his back, legs dangling into the abyss.

…

Finally, he took a deep breath.  “Okay.  Let’s do this.”

She nodded, and got to her knees.

“So,” he said, “One hand…” he took her left hand and placed it on his left shoulder.  Then, her right hand to his right shoulder.  She took a fistful of cloth with both hands.

“Alright.”  He slid, slowly, ponderously, over the edge.

Minutes passed.  He descended, step by meticulous step, and every time he looked up, it was to the sight of Marinette, eyes still carefully closed, hanging down after him.  Her nose was scrunched up with the effort, and a few stray strands of hair tickled his face every time he turned to face her.

He couldn’t quite keep a smile away when he looked up.

Finally, when he was… Low, maybe even at the bottom step, he heard a noise from above him.

“Careful!” she said, “I’m pretty sure if I try to hold you up any further, I’ll fall down.”

“Oh.  That wouldn’t be good.”

She grimaced, worrying slightly at her upper lip.

“Okay,” she said, “can you hold yourself in place?”

“I think so,” he said.  Slowly carefully, he slipped his arms back through the ladder so that he was hanging by his shoulders.

“Okay,” she said, and sighed.  “I think… I think I can still use the ladder, and help you down from the bottom.”

He looked down.  “Be careful,” he said.

She nodded, and let go of his shoulders.

He hung, limply, hoping that he hadn’t misjudged the balance.

The ladder creaked as she put her weight on it.

A step.  A step.  A step.

Her foot knocked against his shoulder as she climbed further down, and she slowly replaced it, further to the side.

A step, a step, a step.

Her face seemed to stay in front of his for a long time, and he held his breath, not quite sure whether it was because it would have been rude to breathe in her face, or because… Because… No, it had to be the first thing.

She took another step down, and he heard the difference as her foot hit the floor instead of another rung.

She looked up at him, appraising him with her eyes closed.

She took a breath, and reached her hands up, pressing them gently against his chest, and then, she managed to find his shoulders.

“I don’t think we’ve got a better option,” she said, “you’re just going to have to fall forward.  I’ll catch you.  Is that okay?”

He smiled.  “If I didn’t trust you before, you’ve earned it since yesterday.”

She smiled back, a bit bashfully.

“Ready?” he said.

“Ready.”

He leaned forward, and felt his arms slip loose, and-

She staggered back as he fell into her arms, but managed to keep her feet.

\--

She wasn’t dexterous or strong, so, in all honestly, the fact that she was still standing was kind of a surprise.

But then, while he was warm, and heavy, it wasn't like lifting a sack of flour.  He felt more like some kind of thick blanket.

…

She wiped that last thought from her head.  She really _didn’t_ need to contemplate the idea of Chat Noir keeping her warm while she slept.

She also didn’t need to notice the way his head had tilted over so that it leaned against her neck, or way his hair was pressed up against her chin, and yet her traitorous brain had apparently decided that _that_ was worth noticing.

And she _really_ didn’t need to notice the fact that she wouldn’t have minded, had she not been thinking about it.

She pursed her lips, and pushed him back upright.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He let out a gentle hum, as if he hadn’t even registered the question, and then shook his head.  “I… Yeah.  Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good,” she said, “then let’s keep moving.  It’s not far to go, now.” 


	3. 'Help, I tried to grab a towel, and I can't get up!'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette makes eggs.  
> Plagg mocks Chat Noir.  
> Chat Noir has only been dancing once.

After she’d closed the bathroom door behind him, Marinette sighed, and for what felt like the first time in an hour (even though it could only have been 20 minutes), opened her eyes.

She stepped lightly away from the bathroom, and turned to go downstairs.

Hey eyes caught on the ladder to her room.  She’d almost forgotten what it looked like, trying to maneuver down it under such strange circumstances.  Frankly, she barely saw it, normally; normally, it didn’t cause her this much trouble.

But, that was neither here nor there.

Right now, it was morning, and she needed to make breakfast.

She went downstairs.

Now, her parents hadn’t planned on anyone being home while they were gone, so it wasn’t like they’d left anything prepared.  To be honest, they probably wouldn’t have even if they’d known she’d still be here.

Because, of course, a one didn’t spend this long as a baker’s daughter without learning how to cook.

Not, of course, to say that she was going to start baking bread at 10 in the morning, especially not for breakfast.

She bypassed the majority of the kitchen; baking supplies wouldn’t be much help here.

She took a careful look around, surveying her materials.

Eggs.

Eggs were the safe bet here, and there was a half-loaf of bread in a cupboard that she could purloin for her own purposes.

After carefully weighing her options, she settled on scrambled eggs; she was cooking for two people, so the less she had to worry about pan-space logistics…

Anyway.  Eggs.  Bread.

And… There was one more thing.  Cheese?  His kwami needed cheese, and it was… She closed her eyes, and the memory of the smell came back to her.  Even detransformed, Chat Noir still smelled faintly of Camembert.  Well, Plagg was in luck; he’d be getting his preferred food, today.

The smell wasn’t exactly appealing, but it still came across as pleasant to her.  She didn’t know why, but it stirred up happy memories.

She cut off a wedge and set it aside.

“Now,” she said, rolling up her sleeves, “eggs.”

…

Eggs.

\--

Adrien had been defeated.

He’d been so close.

His hands were washed, and all he needed was the hand-towel.

It was stubbornly out of reach from where he was, hung up on the edge of the faucet by his armpits.

“Hmm,” he said, hand flailing weakly out towards it.

It was by no means close enough to reach.

“Hmmm,” he said, flailing out again.

Maybe if he… Committed?  Just, sort of, _went_ for it?

Maybe if he sort of leaped upwards, he could grab it on his way down?

…

As he fell back onto the tiles, Adrien stared up at the ceiling.

Plagg drifted into his field of view.

Adrien gave him a _look,_ trying to forestall any clever comments.

“Now that’s what I call being the hero of Paris!” said Plagg.

Adrien scowled at him.  “Can you get me the towel?”

Plagg looked at him, and then over at the towel.

“Eh.”

“ _Plagg.”_

“Yeah?”

The scowl intensified.

“Look, just because I can fly doesn’t mean I can _lift_ things.  Anyway, I got hit harder than you did.  You can’t tell, but I’m barely holding myself up.”

Adrien gave up.  He flopped his hands back onto his chest and started wiping them off on his shirt.

Okay.  Now, how was he supposed to get out?

The doorknob, hanging above him, seemed to taunt him.  He might manage to reach it, but turning the handle, pulling it open…  Difficult, at the best.

Well, what was the point of being a superhero if you didn’t have the perseverance to keep going?

\--

Marinette had _contemplated_ taking the breakfast up to her room, but then, how was she supposed to get him back up there? No, probably best to take the plates to the living room.

She gave the bathroom door a confused look as she heard a clawing noise coming from the other side, but left it alone until she’d put the plates on the table in the living room.

She placed her hand on the doorknob for the bathroom.

“Chat Noir?” she said.

“Hey, Marinette.  Don’t suppose you could open the door, could you?”

“Sure,” she said.  “Where are you?”

“Just… On the other side of the door.”

“And you washed your hands?”

“Pfft, what kind of animal do you take me for?”

“A cat?”

He went silent, and she could feel it coming before he spoke.

“I’ve got to say, your timing was _purr_ fect on that one.”

“Maybe I should just leave you in there.”

“What, you don’t like cat puns either?  Jeez, what is it with me and black-haired girls who don’t like fun.”

Marinette froze, and was grateful that he couldn’t see her.  “The odds were against you,” she said, “most people don’t like cat puns.”

Chat Noir gasped.  “You wound me!”

Marinette sighed, but couldn’t quite keep herself from smiling.

“How about I make it up to you with breakfast.  Would eggs pay you off?”

“Hmm…” he said, and then, after an unnecessarily dramatic pause, “very well.”

“Alright, well they’re getting cold in the living room, so we’d better get you out of there.

“Won’t catch me complaining.”

She closed her eyes, and turned the knob.

“Hello again, Marinette,” said Chat Noir, from near her feet.

“Hello, Chat Noir,” she said, reaching down.

As he put his hand in hers, she _pulled._

Nothing happened.

She could hear him struggling, feel her own legs barely able to take the force with which she was pulling, but…

“Guess, I need, better, core strength,” said Chat Noir.

“I guess so,” said Marinette, finally giving up on hauling him upright.  “How did I even get you up _last_ time?”

“Wasn’t on the ground,” he said.

She leaned back against the sink.

“What if…” said Chat Noir, “Instead of doing it this way, I flip over, and get up from my hands and knees?”

“I couldn’t grab your hand, then,” said Marinette.

“You could probably grab my waist?” said Chat Noir.

Had Marinette’s eyes been open, she probably would have blinked at that.

Then again, she could see it in her head, and it felt like it would work.

Chat Noir was already rolling over.

She sighed, silently, and knelt beside him.

As she found his back, she had to admit she hadn’t expected this much physical contact with _anyone_ this weekend, let alone Chat Noir.

Oh dear, and if she counted time as Ladybug (which _he_ couldn’t, of course) there had also been that time she’d kissed him.

To remove a curse.

For no other reason.

And also the time she’d pretended to be his girlfriend, which had certainly featured a certain amount of holding onto his arm.

To fool Glaciator.

For no other reason.

And…

 _Anyway_.  The point was that physical contact with Chat Noir was an occupational hazard.  Which was why she currently had her right arm wrapped around his torso, and was _pulling._

 _Not much of a hazard,_ came a voice from the corner of her head.

Mentally, she shot it a look, which it replied to with mock innocence, pointing out that she’d never responded to the point that she had to _think_ about minding having to do this.

He was on his knees now; all she had to do was get him to his feet.

One more pull.

\--

Carefully, carefully, he got to his feet, balancing his upper body on an unstable spine.

He felt himself keeling forward, and managed to slip his arm around Marinette’s shoulders.

They both came close to falling forward, but managed to stop just before his face could ram into the faucet.

“Alright,” said Marinette.  “Now, we’ve just got to get to the living room.”

A slow turn, a few unsteady steps.  Another turn, and they staggered their way into the living room.

It was just like Chat Noir remembered it, and there, sitting on the table in front of the couch, was a pair of plates.

He could still make out wisps of steam from the eggs, and…

“Is that bread?”

“Home baked,” she said, smiling.  “Just an upside of living in a bakery.”

Some careful maneuvering, and they were in front of the couch.

“Okay,” said Marinette, poking it with her foot to check the distance.

She took a breath, and, reaching out her other arm, slowly maneuvered him around, until they were face to face, with his arm still looped around her neck.

“Like dancing,” he murmured, and she froze.

“What?”

“Oh!” he said, not having meant to say it aloud.  “I just meant,  I’m used to dipping my partner, not the other way around.”

“Ah,” she said.  “I guess, you’re probably the kind of guy who goes dancing a lot?”

He laughed.  “The kind who’d like to.  No, I’ve only actually…  I’ve only danced with someone once.”

Her expression was strange at that.

“I see,” she said.  “Well, I’ve got two left feet at the best of times.”  She let him go, and he fell back against the cushions.

“Oh come on, Marinette, you’re a great dancer!  I mean, I’m sure you are, anyway.”

She gave him a gently disbelieving smile; honestly, how could she believe was a bad dancer?  She danced so… sincerely.  Dancing with her felt like… It felt like what little he’d seen of her home.  It was warm.

Even as his hands shook, he managed to grab a plate, and put a forkful of egg into his mouth.

Marinette, in the meantime, was feeling around in front of her.

“If you’re looking for a plate…” he said.

“No, I was… Well, I can’t exactly eat very well with my eyes closed.  I was trying to figure out how to get out of the room.”

The words seemed to twist at something in his stomach.

“Oh,” he said.  “Right, I suppose… I suppose that makes sense.”

\--

Was he upset by something?  “What?” she said.

“Nothing,” he said, “just… It’s stupid, but I really like being in your home.”

He’d said as much before, but she didn’t see how that came into things right now.  “Okay?”

“Well… It’s just that you’re the person who makes it _your_ home.  You know what I mean?”

“I see,” she said, slowly.

“I guess, I like being in your home, because I like being around you.”

“I see,” she said, faster, feeling herself starting to blush.  “Well then I could probably go behind the couch, right,” she started walking, hoping it was in the right direction, “I mean it’s not like I could see you if you were directly behind me because that’s not how-

Her toe slammed into the sofa, and she yelped in pain, landing on her knees.

“Ow, ow, ow,” she muttered, realizing a second too late that her eyes were open.

She almost panicked, but no.  It was fine.  It was _fine._   He was barely a blur in her peripheral vision.

She shamefacedly grabbed the plate from the table, and shuffled on her knees around behind the sofa.

She sat there, a bit out of breath, with the expression of one desperately trying to avoid detection.

“Are you okay, Marinette?”

“I’m…” she paused.  “Fine,” she said, “just… realized that I was letting the eggs get cold.”

“Of course,” he said, and she knew that he didn’t believe her.

She wouldn't have believed her.


	4. Challenge Accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette gets dressed for the day.  
> Chat Noir is on the hunt for a way to pass the time, and may have gotten in over his head.

Marinette sat there.

She couldn’t even look him in the eye.

No, scratch that, she couldn’t have looked him in the eye even if his identity _hadn’t_ been on the line.  That was the problem.

The issue was that she _knew_ Chat Noir.  She knew for a fact that idle flirting came as easily as breathing to him.  She was _used_ to that.

She was _not_ used to what sounded like a genuine statement of how much he cared about her.

She forked some eggs into her mouth.

Of course, she could have assumed that this was the same kind of bravado, but… She knew enough about him to know that he vastly preferred being Chat Noir to being at home.

It was a comment that he wouldn’t make idly.

She took a bite of the bread.

There was a long silence.

“Oh,” said Chat Noir.  “I forgot to thank you, by the way.”

“For?”

“Well, I was going to say breakfast.  It’s delicious.”  He sighed.  “But really, I guess, _everything._   Y’know.  Looking after me while I’m paralyzed.”

“Well, if it helps, you picked the right time.  My parents were out of town, and I’d already cancelled my plans for the weekend.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she said, “I was supposed to go on this school trip.”

He hummed in agreement.  “I see.”

“It’s not like I didn’t want to go.  It’s… Well.  It’s supposed to be a good time, and all my friends are there.  Even… You’ve met Adrien Agreste, right?”

There was a silence.  “Mhm.”

“Well, his father barely ever lets him out, and…” she quietly managed to not mention her crush on him, “and, anyway, he was supposed to be there too.”

“Is he a friend of yours, then?”

She paused.  “Well… I think so?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… I kind of got off on the wrong foot with him.  I thought he was like Chloe, and he wasn’t.  Of course, by the time I’d figured that out, I’d already accused him of something he didn’t do.  I’ve regretted it for the past year.”

\--

“You really think he’d hold a grudge like that?”

“I… I know.  It’s just, I get nervous when I talk to him.  I really like him, and… I just hope he likes me, too.”

Adrien could feel tears welling up in his eyes.  He’d been on the verge of crying simply from the taste of the bread.

“Marinette,” he said, “he’d be an idiot not to.”

She laughed.  “Thanks.”

He finished the eggs.

“By the way,” he said, as the thought struck him.  “What did you cancel your plans for?”

“What?”

“I mean, you said you’d already cancelled your plans when you agreed to look after me.”

“I did, didn’t I.”

There was a silence, and he couldn’t quite parse what she’d be thinking.

Eventually, she responded.  “It was kind of a personal thing.  It didn’t last long, but it overlapped with when the bus was supposed to leave, so I had to cancel.”

“Oh.  Everything alright?”

“Um… Yeah.  Yeah, everything’s okay.  Things didn’t go quite as planned, but everything should be fine.”

Good,” he said.  “Aw man, I can feel my strength coming back with every bite of this I take.  Your family has the gift of good cooking, Marinette.”

She laughed.  “Are you sure you weren’t just hungry?  They do say that hunger is the best spice.”

“Well, I won’t deny that,” he said.  He tried to push himself upwards, slip himself up the back of the couch.  It felt… Easier?  Or was he imagining it.

Well.  Either way, he _knew_ he was recovering, if only because he could reliably lift his arms now.

He heard the clink of Marinette setting down her plate behind him.

“Well,” she said, “I should probably get dressed, so I’m not lying around in my pajamas all day.”  She considered something.  “And then,” she said, “I should probably make a blindfold.”

“A blindfold?”

“It’s… kind of annoying to have to think about close my eyes.”  She said.

“Well, couldn’t you make me a new mask, so you could still see?”

“Well…” she said.  “I probably could.  Of course, if I did that, I’d still be able to see the rest of you.  Are your clothes anything recognizable?”

He grinned nervously.

“I mean, it’s funny you mention that…”

“Oh.  What are you wearing?”

“Nothing crazy, but you’d probably recognize me from it.”

“So I’d recognize you on the street?”

“Well.  You’d recognize me whatever I was wearing.”

He regretted the words instantly.

\--

She _knew him?_

“Oh,” she said, eventually.  “That’s… interesting.”  A long pause.  “Oh, but I’ve gotten distracted.  I was going to go get dressed.  Pass me your plate?”

Wordlessly, he slid it over the back of the couch, and she took it.

“The, um… The remote for the TV’s on the table, if that helps.”

“Thanks,” he said.

She stepped out of the room, and after a short stop in the kitchen, went up to her room.

She closed the door after her, and, after a second, sat down on the chaise.

“How’s it going up here, Tikki?  You’re not getting bored, are you?”

“Nope!” said Tikki.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re _winning,_ ” said Plagg.  “ _I_ on the other hand…”

“Oh come on, Plagg, this was your idea!”

“Winning at what?” said Marinette, climbing up the ladder to look.

Plagg scowled at her, as he pulled a card off the top of his deck, though she’d have guessed it was just generalized annoyance, rather than being directed at _her._   “War.  It wouldn’t have killed you to get smaller cards, would it?”

“I’ll make sure to get some next time I get the chance,” said Marinette, grabbing some clothes.

“Yeah, you’d better,” grumbled the kwami, “I actually have half a chance at cribbage.”

“Only because you ‘forget’ how many points you have.”

“I only did that once!”

“Once a week, maybe.”

Marinette smiled, rolling her eyes.

Plagg and Tikki were doing alright.  Now, it was her turn.  She composed herself, and tried to put herself back into her normal state of mind.  She just had a friend over, was all, one who hadn't been able to visit before.  He hadn't told her anything strange or worrying.

\--

“Chat Noir?” said Marinette, walking into the room.  He jumped, or, his body tried to, and he managed to convulse his way below her sightline.

“Hey,” he said, “I was just… I saw you had Mecha Strike?  I thought it might help pass the time, so I was setting things up, but you came back down before I could get out of sight again, so now… Now I’m kind of lying here.”

“You want to play me?”

“I mean, if you want to.”

“So…” she said, “Are you issuing a challenge?”  She stepped towards the TV.

“'Issuing a challenge?'”

“Because by Dupain tradition, that’s a deadly matter.  If you’re going to do it, you need to _commit._ ”  He would _swear_ she hadn’t been like this when she’d known he was Adrien.

“I-  What?”

“C’mon Chat Noir, are you challenging me?”  She kneeled, and took a controller.

“I,” he said, grasping around at her sudden change of tone.  “Yes?”  He said.

“Alright,” she said, standing up, “then I’m not responsible for what happens next.”

She slipped around the side of the couch, and vanished.

He picked up his controller, and, wondering what exactly he'd gotten himself into, started the game.


	5. Time To Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette offers an extended demonstration of the skills that let her usurp Max's place on the Mecha Strike duo. All Chat Noir can really do is marvel.

After Adrien had slipped around the other side of the couch so that Marinette could actually look at the screen without risking catching sight of him, she had requested a single practice round.  Adrien had been perfectly willing to take her up on it.

5 hard fought rounds passed in silence, but for the determined pressing of buttons.

“Not _bad,”_ she said, when the results screen had appeared.

Not bad seemed like an understatement.  She’d only had a fragment of health left on the final round.  In fact, the whole round had been a comeback for her.  Similar damage taken, similar damage given, honestly, everything seemed almost identical.

He was about to bring that point up, when-

There was a flicker on the screen, and he couldn’t quite tell what had happened for a second.

His eyes caught on a small panel just below her character.

She had given herself a 25% handicap.

Despite the closeness of the last round, Adrien had a bad feeling about this.

\--

_2-0_

Marinette had the distinct impression she now understood _exactly_ what her father had felt like when he’d done this to her.  Of course, she’d been 7 at the time, it had been on Mecha Strike II, and he’d set his handicap to _90_ %, but the basic premise remained the same.

Of course, he couldn’t do it anymore, since she was actually _better_ than him, now.

Chat Noir had, of course, won rounds, every so often, but always by the slimmest margins.  After his first victory, he’d stopped cheering at his wins, probably because he’d remembered that it took more than one round to win at Mecha Strike.

\--

_5-0_

He’d played against her before, of course.  She still played the same character, had the same general style, but he was having trouble placing what was so familiar.

He grinned as he finally managed to win another round.  She was silent, but…

That was it.  The way she played reminded him of Kagami.  It made sense; they were both trained from a young age in their chosen fields, very good at what they did, took it very seriously, and… Even though they both made it very clear that they wanted to win, they didn’t let minor losses affect them.  He’d sparred with Kagami probably hundreds of times now, and her strategy might shift when he got a point, but there was always a strategy.

She had a cool head.  Speaking of which…

Even with the sliver of health his last attack had left Marinette with, he couldn’t seem to get the final blow.  _Block, block, counter, combo_ -

The screen switched into the cutscene of LB-03’s ultimate move activating, and he knew he wasn’t blocking.

He let out a slow breath as his health dropped to 0.

She really was remarkable.  She spent so much of her time helping others, and yet, put a controller in her hand, and she gave no quarter.

He could almost imagine Marinette taking on one of Hawkmoth’s villains, even being so famously clumsy, and not particularly strong.  She had the _will_ to fight, was what it was.  Honestly, the next time he and Ladybug were up against a villain they needed help for, he’d have to recommend Marinette for the position.

He chuckled.  Ladybug might actually get some competition for Paris’ greatest hero at that point.

He blinked, as he realized that his fingers had apparently won a round without him.

Who knew, he might even win the game.

\--

_8-1_

Marinette laughed.

“Well, _that_ took long enough,” said Chat Noir.

“I thought I’d manage to chew through all nine of your lives, but I guess not.”

“Oh, well you’d better be ready for me to return the favor,” he said, “get ready for the comeback, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

“Oh, so we’re going by last names now?  Alright Mr. Noir _,_ let’s do this.”

“Please, Mr. Noir was my father’s name.  Call me Chat.”

She laughed.  “Alright, I’ll give you that one, that was funny.”

“Thank you, thank you,” he said, and she could picture the bow he’d be giving if he could move properly, or, indeed, if she could see him.

“But if you’re referring to me by my last name, it’s only fair that I do the same for you.”

“I see,” he said, “but you’ve been calling me ‘Chat Noir’ this whole time.  Shouldn’t I have been calling you ‘Marinette Dupain-Cheng’?”

“Don’t think too hard about it.”

“No, no, now I’m curious.  Is it a 1-to-1 thing?  Like, what if I just call you ‘Mari’?”

“Hmm.”

 _‘Ready?  Fight!’_   said the screen.

“Kitty,” said Marinette, grinning at the choking noise from the other side of the couch.  That was two free punches as he recovered, and two more from starting a combo.

“ _Kitty!?”_

“Yup.”

\--

_19-4_

Marinette had absolutely figured out that it distracted him when she called him ‘kitty’.

It probably had something to do with the fact that Ladybug used the name on rare occasions, and their voices were similar enough that…

Well, Marinette had been getting an edge at _first_ through the simple intimidation tactic of her grim silence radiating from the other side of the couch as she methodically tore him apart.

Now, she was getting an edge by, every time he was getting close to winning a round, saying something to the effect of, _‘C’mon, Kitty, that’s not nice._ ’

Adrien had learned two major things over the past few hours.

  1. It was, indeed, incredibly distracting when she called him ‘Kitty.’
  2. She didn’t seem to have anywhere _near_ the same reaction when he called her ‘Mari.’



He didn’t know what it was, but something in the way she said it felt like…

Felt like…

He remembered, very faintly, going to the beach once.  Years ago.  They’d gone south; Greece, if he remembered it right.

They’d let him play in the shallowest part of the surf.  He didn’t remember much of it, of course, but he remembered why they’d pulled him out;  He’d been up to his knees, splashing through the waves.  Everything had been fine… And then, without warning, his legs had been out from under him.  He’d been underwater, unable to make it to his feet.

What was the word?  Riptide?  Undertow?

He lost a round to his memories.

The point was, Marinette’s voice had the ability to knock him off balance in a way that he couldn’t really block.

No, scratch that, the point was that it wasn’t fair that she could do that.

\--

_62-14_

It was around 7:30 when Marinette called a stop for food.

It took a bit of fiddling, but Chat Noir managed to maneuver so he’d stay out of her sight.

Now, a careful look around the kitchen revealed opportunities besides just eggs.

Of course, before anything else, she should probably get Plagg his cheese.

\--

Chat Noir laid there for a few minutes.

There was no denying that he’d been solidly demolished.  He’d managed a few good victories, of course, but the game’s own tally solidly announced that he’d lost, and that was with a handicap.

Well.  It wasn’t like he’d even come here to train his gaming skills.  He’d come here to recover.

He rolled over, and found the motion almost easy.

He put his hands under himself, and pushed.

It still took an effort, but he managed to get his body off the ground.

“Okay,” he muttered, and pulled himself back.

In a swing, he made it to his knees…

And kept going, falling onto his back, knees still under him.

Hm.

Hold on.

He took stock.

He was caught between the table and the couch.

With his legs like this, he couldn’t roll in place.

His legs weren’t strong enough to lift him enough to…

And he was pretty sure that while he could use the table to pull himself up a few inches, he wouldn’t be able to work that.

He was trapped.

Fine, he’d wait for Marinette to get back, and she’d _definitely_ be able to help him.

He laid back, and waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact; I realized as I was writing it that Adrien's point about Marinette's internal contradiction between pragmatism and empathy is kind of how I write Tikki.  
> I usually think of Tikki as being very caring, very much the person she presents herself as, but with the caveat that she has a job to do, which may involve unpleasantness, such as withholding information people would want to know (Fu's existence, Chat Noir's identity, that kind of thing) or, though she tries to avoid it, even outright lying.  
> Kind of cool how the Kwami matches up with the wielder.


	6. Meditations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chat Noir lies on the floor.
> 
> Marinette lets something important slip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: Chat Noir missing the obvious answer, instead reaching for a plausible secondary option.

Minutes passed, the last few fits of motion as he made certain he couldn’t move faded away.

Adrien stared at the ceiling.

Well.

Here he was.

It had been a strange few days.

He’d slept over at a friend’s house.  That was new.

He hadn’t seen anyone from home in… Well, it would be over a day, now.  That was new, too.

He’d played Mecha Strike for what was probably an unhealthily long time.  That was… Not actually new.

And…  Maybe he knew Marinette a little better, now?

Marinette…  Well, there was no denying she was amazing.  Even if he’d never met her before, he’d know that now.

Adrien stared at the ceiling.

He could probably shout for Marinette, but… She’d said she was going to make food.  That was an involved process, wasn’t it?

This was fine.  Plagg could lounge in one place for hours on end.

Actually… Where _was_ Plagg?

Adrien chuckled, gently.

Plagg was probably lounging somewhere.

For hours on end.

The point wasn’t lost on him.

Adrien stared at the ceiling.

_Hmm…_

His breathing slowed.

The ceiling was white.

Was it the kind of white they called ‘egg shell?’

Probably not.

There was a spot of light, too, probably reflected from something below.

He looked over, craning his neck in the hopes of seeing something that might be responsible for the reflection.

There was nothing.

Adrien stared at the ceiling.

…

It was strange.  You didn’t usually notice the sun shifting across the sky, but as he stared, and time passed around him, he thought he could just about make out that spot of light shifting.

Or was that his imagination?

\--

“Chat Noir?” said Marinette as she walked back into the living room.

There was no response.

She almost wanted to open her eyes to check on him.

“Chat Noir?” she repeated.

“What!?” he said, and then, “Oh.  Hi, Marinette.  Sorry, I wasn’t listening, were you saying something?”

“I was just wondering where you were,” she said.  “Actually…” she tilted her head slightly, “where _are_ you?”

“Oh,” he said, and sighed.  “I got caught down here.  Sort of stood on my own hands, if you know what I mean?”

“Without actually standing, I assume,” she said.

“No.”

Marinette sighed.  “You do get caught on the floor a lot, don’t you.”

“I’m not trying to, I swear.”

She smiled.  “Don’t worry.  I knew you wouldn’t be able to move too easily when I let you stay here.  This is kind of what I signed up for.”

He sighed.  “You’re a saint.”

She laughed. “Careful, Chat Noir, you’ve got… Well.”

“Got what?”

She kneeled down, trying to find his head, “I was just going to say… You know what, don’t worry about it.”

“C’mon, Marinette,” he said, as her hands found his shoulders, “now I’m curious.”

She didn’t say anything for a second.

“I was just going to say,” she said, “I was going to make some joke about how you’ve got your crush on Ladybug to maintain.  But… Forget about it.”

“Oh?” he said, and she heard the edge of confusion.  “Have you got something against me having a crush on Ladybug?”

To her own surprise, the question threw Marinette for a loop.  It took her a second to remember that, _yes,_ she _did_ have something against that.  But she couldn’t say that, could she?  Certainly not without giving away her secret.

“What!?  No, not… I mean, I’m not saying it’s a good idea, but…” she really hoped he couldn’t see her face.  “It’s not like I’m close enough to the situation to have a proper opinion, so it wouldn’t make sense for me to say anything about it one way or the other.”

His head shifted against her chest, as she hauled him upright.  She tried to compose her face into something approximating expressionlessness.  She didn’t think it was working.

She shook her head, “Please, just forget I said anything.  It’s your business, and none of mine.”

\--

Adrien’s eyes widened as he looked at her.

Marinette had a crush on him.

At least, she didn’t seem to like something about his crush on Ladybug, and he was only coming up with one plausible reason.

As she silently put him back against the couch, he looked up, and could make out the nerves on her face.

 _‘It’s your business, and none of mine.’_  He should probably change the subject.  But… Agree with it?  _‘Yes, it’s none of your business?’_ Or… No, telling her it _was_ her business would just prolong them talking about it.  _This_ was why he left the planning up to Ladybug.  _She_ wouldn’t be at a loss for words right now.

There was a long silence, as Marinette looked sightlessly around, humming uneasily.

Eventually, she seemed to come to a conclusion, and, slipping over, sat down as far from him on the couch as she could.

The silence stretched out.

Marinette seemed to be waiting for the hammer to fall.

“So,” he said, “you, were, going off to make food, right?  How did that go?”

She sat up, seemingly surprised by the question.

“I’ve… I’ve got a timer set on my phone, so I’ll know when it’s done.  It’s just in the oven, at the moment.”

“Oh, good,” he said.  “So… Um… What is it?”

“It’s,” she said, “Chicken!  I was just thinking, you know, it was easy to prepare, so…”

He looked at her sidelong, and practically kicked himself.

He’d wished that Ladybug was here, thought she would have been able to help, but he’d forgotten one important fact.

 _He_ was _Chat Noir._   He was the one who prided himself on being a smooth talker, and here he was, sitting in awkward silence.

He took a breath.

“Well, that answers an old question, I guess,” he said.

She looked over, even though her eyes were closed.

“Well, it was the eggs first, and _then_ the chicken.”

Her expression went blank.

A second passed.  He didn’t even think she was breathing.

Her lip twitched, faintly, and her breathing started shaking.

Her head fell forward, and she started laughing.

“That’s not—” she said, hand going to her face, unable to complete the sentence as laughter overtook her voice, “that’s got to be one of your worst jokes ever.”

Well.  It looked like he’d broken the ice, and far be it from him to refuse a laughing audience.

“Worst _jokes?_ ” he said, “I think you mean one of my best _yolks!”_

“That’s worse!” she said, voice practically a squeak.

\--

A 7 of diamonds had gone up against a 7 of clubs.

A jack of clubs had gone up against a jack of spades.

A 9 of hearts had gone up against a 9 of diamonds.

Both kwamis stared intently down at the stack of nine cards in front of each of them.

Silently, they flipped their final cards.

Plagg let out an aggravated grumble.

“Every, single, time,” he said.  “See, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were cheating.”

Tikki cocked her head, smiling.  “But you know I wouldn’t!”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” he said, and sighed.

“Alright,” he said at last, “you know what?  It doesn’t matter.  The game’s not over.”

He laid down his next card.

“In _fact,_ ” he said, “I think it’s just getting interesting.”


	7. Alone With Your Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the rest of the world is silent, there's nothing to listen to but the inside of your head.

3 hours, about half a chicken, and approximately 120 bad jokes later, Marinette was lying in bed.

Chat Noir was sleeping on the couch, of course.  Even if she’d felt up to bringing him upstairs, why would she?  It wasn’t like she wanted him in her room, right?

_Except, of course, that her head was being stubborn on that one._

Marinette lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Plagg had gone back to Chat Noir, and Tikki seemed to be in an even better mood than usual for having seen him.

Of course, Tikki was asleep now.

Marinette stared at the ceiling, and sighed.

_Did she have something against Chat Noir’s crush on Ladybug?_

Of course she did.  She liked Adrien.  Even if Chat Noir’s crush didn’t actually cause her any distress, she shouldn’t be able to condone it, right?

And yet, when she considered telling him to forget about it, to give up, there was a sensation in her stomach that she couldn’t put a name to.  It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, either.

\--

And what was he supposed to do about it?  Was this what Ladybug felt like around him?

Adrien stared at the ceiling, and sighed.

Marinette was great, of course, but he’d been after Ladybug for nearly a year, now.  How was he supposed to justify giving up on that, even if it _was_ for Marinette?

Plagg shifted slightly, and Adrien felt the prickle of tiny claws through his shirt.

And… What if he followed that train of thought?  Wouldn’t he be… Sad?

Except… He didn’t know if he could physically forget about Ladybug, but he knew Marinette.  Even if she’d never met him before, she’d _still_ have done her best to help him.  That wasn’t a conjecture, it was just who she was.

She was… What was the word?

Amazing.

Anyone would be lucky to have her after them.  A fool to turn her down.

The problem was, he _was_ a fool.  He was a fool, chasing after someone who had turned him down time and again.  He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, barely registering how much easier it had become to move his arm.

Adrien sighed.

\--

She wanted to wake up Tikki.  She could ask for advice.  She could…

But didn’t she know what Tikki would say?

_‘I can’t tell you how to feel, Marinette.  All I can tell you is to follow your heart!’_

She didn't know if she trusted her heart, but she trusted Tikki.

She trusted Chat Noir, too.

She hadn’t at first, of course.  He’d been rash, impulsive.  He was still both of those things, but…  Somehow, he managed to stay dependable.  He’d always shown up when she’d needed him, (with the exception of Style Queen, but she didn’t think that was his fault).

That was the strange part, though, wasn’t it?  He acted almost childishly.  He eternally tried to put forth the appearance of a dashing, swashbuckling hero; smooth talker, maker of what he thought were good puns.  She enjoyed swinging across the city, but she still remembered seeing him after he’d been vaulting across the rooftops, before he’d registered she was there.

He’d seemed almost _breathless._

He thrived on chaos, and motion.  He liked being _free._

And that was where she’d misjudged him, at first.

Somewhere in the twisting, swirling excitement that _was_ Chat Noir, there was something solid.  She didn’t know whether he concealed it on purpose, or whether it just didn’t make as much noise, but it was there.

She’d seen it before Glaciator had attacked, and, for that matter, afterwards.

And she didn’t know what to do about it.

\--

He couldn’t follow the same line of thinking with anyone else, either.

This wasn’t desperation, to find someone, _anyone._

This was… Marinette.

He’d heard stories about the years previous.  Chloe had beaten her down, they said.  She’d practically given up.

And yet, this year, something had shifted.

Maybe… _Ha._   Maybe she’d been as inspired by Ladybug as he’d been.  Then again, maybe it had been the fact that she’d found someone to fight back _with._   Alya certainly hadn’t arrived beaten down.

It was strange; her blatant initial distaste for him had been one of the greatest reasons he’d had to respect her.  She hadn’t given him a pass because he was famous.  She hadn’t given him a pass at all.  She’d treated him like anyone else, both as Adrien, _and_ as Chat Noir.

She’d never given him a reason to think she’d lost her will to fight, either.

She was like…

Well, it was like he’d said, wasn’t it?

She was their everyday Ladybug.

And…

It _was_ Ladybug that he had a crush on, wasn’t it?

It made sense that…

That…

His brain shuddered, stopping dead.  It was like prodding a bruise.  Moving forward felt almost _dangerous._

Plagg had said something about it before, but he’d dismissed it.

It was… Possible.

He could, potentially, have some kind of, very small, almost negligible, crush on…

Marinette.

He was really glad that Plagg wasn’t awake right now.  Plagg would have just stared at him with the intensely fatigued expression he wore when Adrien talked about romance.

He could practically hear him.

_‘Yeah, congratulations, it took you long enough.’_

\--

She didn’t _need_ to sleep, of course.  It wasn’t like she had anything to do tomorrow, and it wasn’t even that late.  The problem was, she didn’t want to face this.  She didn’t want to consider _anything_ that was running through her head.  Despite everything, she was _tired._

Maybe, if she fell asleep, she’d wake up with no recollection of this.  Or, maybe, she’d realize she’d been affected by some kind of temporary madness, and be able to laugh everything off.  That would be so much easier.

Temporary madness.  That was one way of putting it.

Madness was the only explanation she could find for the inexplicable urge to go downstairs and talk to him.

The only defense she’d had was the knowledge that he was probably asleep right now, and the idea of shaking him from sleep so that she could talk to him pulled her back more than her desire to speak with him pulled her on.

And if she _were_ to wake him up, what would she talk to him about?  What would she say?

_‘You’re cooler than you seem, and despite my best attempts, I think I’m getting a crush on you, even though I already have a crush on someone else, and don’t want to have a crush on you.’_

Not only did the idea fill her with embarrassment by proxy to her hypothetical self, it didn’t even seem complimentary to him.  Imaging waking up to someone telling you that they liked you despite themselves.

No.

She wasn’t going to bother him.

She was going to sleep.

She was going to sleep, and wake up well-rested in the morning, and probably not even remember what she’d thought.

\--

Adrien was terrified.  And, his own fear was scaring him further.

Terrified, of course, because his feelings for Ladybug had been one of the things he’d been able to count on for so long.  If he were to… To give up on that, what would happen?  Would he even be able to?

And then, it was worse.  What had become of him that the idea of giving up on a crush, one that had gone unreciprocated for so long, scared him so badly?

At this point, it wasn’t even like he expected her to suddenly change her mind.  She knew.  She knew, and she’d made it clear that she liked someone else.

He couldn’t coerce her into changing her mind and even if he could, he wouldn’t.

Adrien sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

Maybe things would be clearer in the morning.

Maybe.


	8. 17 Unread Messages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette is staring down the barrel of a day spent with someone whose very presence messes with her emotions.  
> She needs a way out.  
> Any way out.  
> And salvation might come from a place she almost forgot about.

Marinette blearily looked at her alarm clock.

11:20.

She sat bolt upright in bed, because…

Because…

It was the weekend.

She _knew_ that.

That was why her parents hadn’t woken her up.

She blinked.

And, of course, because they were out of town and the living room was occupied by Chat Noir and _oh god everything from last night was coming flooding back._

In the light of the morning, it felt as if the thoughts she’d been having were almost drowned out by the sunshine, but she could feel them like a sore muscle that was just _waiting_ to be stretched wrong.

Alright.

This was… Fine.

All she had to do, was avoid interacting with him as much as possible.

Easy, right?

Or… Not easy?

He was a guest in her house.  She could find excuses not to interact with him, but she couldn’t just leave him lying on the couch, right?  At least, not with nothing to do.

She could, if nothing else, give him the remote for the TV.

She groaned.  This would be much _easier_ if there were fewer hours in a day.  As it stood, she needed a magic bullet, something like Mecha Strike had been yesterday.

And she needed…

Well, a blindfold was an easy thing to come across for an aspiring fashion designer.

A few strips of cloth, and a tight knot were all it took, and…

Yup.

She was blind.

Well, maybe that would… Help?  She wouldn’t have to think about keeping her eyes closed, so maybe she could devote more of her thought processes to keeping her mind under control.

Alright.

It was time to…

Make some food, probably.  That seemed like an intelligent thing to do around lunchtime.

Not eggs, though.  She’d had enough jokes out of Chat Noir on the topic, full of all manner of fowl language-

Marinette groaned.

He hadn’t even _made_ that joke.  He hadn’t sworn either, which meant that one was entirely on her.

She wondered if puns were a transmissible disease.

Maybe he just had the contagious variant.

 _The point was,_ not eggs.

So, the plan was, get dressed, go downstairs, get ready for the day, make, and subsequently eat, some food, and then stall for time.

That should be-

Her eyes widened as a sound hit her ears.

That was her phone.

God, she hadn’t checked her phone in the past two days.

She’d been too busy with everything to even _think_ about it.

Plans put on hold, she went over to her desk.

_17 new messages from Alya_

_ACes: Where did you go?  Are you okay?_

_ACes: You didn’t show up after the villain attacked._

_ACes: Seriously, are you okay?_

There was a gap

_ACes: Alright.  I’m gonna assume that you’re alright.  Ladybug put everything back, so hopefully even if something happened, you’re alright._

_ACes: I’m guessing you just lost your phone or something._

_ACes: Well, for when you find it, you’re probably kind of upset about missing the trip, right?_

_ACes: But, good news, kind of.  Adrien couldn’t make it either._

_ACes: Kind of suspicious that neither of you could make it, huh ;)_

_ACes: I know you said your parents were out of town. ;) ;) ;)_

_ACes: Wow, I guess you really did lose your phone.  If you had it there’s no way you wouldn’t have responded to that._

_ACes: Unless…_

_ACes: I’m right?_

_ACes: Who am I kidding, you have trouble stringing sentences together around him._

Another gap, and the messages started up again, not long ago.

_ACes:  It’s kind of weird sleeping in a room without the constant risk of interruption.  Honestly, it’s a bit quieter than I like._

_ACes: Had Nino in my room until lights-out, but after that, everything was way too quiet._

_ACes: Well, hopefully I’ll at least see you in school on Monday, right?_

_ACes: Hope you’re okay._

Marinette stared at the messages.

The little textbox popped up.  _‘ACes is typing’_

Then, after a second, it vanished.

Marinette took a long breath, and started typing, unthinkingly muttering the words as she typed them.

“Sorry, about, that.   Some, urgent, business, just came up, and I haven’t been able, to pay much attention, to my phone.”

_Send._

_ACes:  She lives!_

_ACes:  What kind of urgent business?_

_ACes:  Is it Adrien related like I was saying?_

MDC:  lol, no.

She considered her next move.

_ACes: Then what?_

No, she could do this, couldn’t she?

It wasn’t like it was beyond the realm of reason that Ladybug would have prevailed on a citizen to help.  After all, she’d expected Chat Noir to believe it (and he _had)._

MDC: I got tangled up in the attack.

MDC: You probably didn’t see me.

MDC: Chat Noir had some kind of misfire with his Cataclysm.

_ACes: :O_

MDC: He ended up paralyzed, so after the fight, Ladybug asked me to keep an eye on him.

_ACes: :OO_

MDC: So he’s been in my house since the day before yesterday.

_ACes: :OOO girl for real?_

_ACes: you’ve got a superhero just lying on your couch_

_ACes: wait_

_ACes: is he in your bed_

_ACes: do you have Chat Noir sleeping in your bed y/n?_

MDC: No!

MDC: He’s on the couch.

MDC: I played Mecha Strike against him yesterday.

_ACes: is he any good?_

MDC: He’s alright.

_ACes: Wait_

_ACes: big question_

_ACes: is he still in the catsuit, or is he back to normal?_

MDC: back to normal, but before you ask, no, I haven’t seen his face.

MDC: Ladybug made it very clear that I wasn’t allowed to look.

_ACes: Wait, how are you taking care of him if you can’t see?_

MDC: Carefully

_Aces: lol, I bet_

_ACes: Oh jeez_

_ACes: Sorry, Nino just heard you had Chat Noir in your house, and he’s freaking out a bit._

MDC: Look, I’ve got some stuff to do right now.  I just got up.

MDC: Get back to me in an hour or two?

_ACes: ????_

_ACes: Girl, you want me to wait 2 hours?_

_ACes: YOU HAVE CHAT NOIR IN YOUR HOUSE_

_ACes: This is like_

_ACes: Can he do a phone interview?_

_ACes: It’s not like he’s going anywhere, right?_

_ACes: Nino wants a phone interview_

_ACes: so do I_

Marinette almost rolled her eyes, but then again...

Alya would have dozens of questions.

Nino would probably have a few as well.

It would relieve his boredom.

It would keep her from having to deal with him.

Most important, it would buy her time.

MDC: I can ask him.

MDC: You have to keep your sources anonymous, though.

MDC: And DON’T TELL ANYONE ON THE BUS.

_ACes: My lips are sealed :)_

_ACes: Nino’s are, too_

_ACes: And if they’re not, I’ll seal them myself ;)_

MDC: Yes, I get it, he’s your boyfriend.

_ACes: Yes he is._

Her phone buzzed.  A separate conversation

_NLahiffe:  Yes I am_

She flipped back to Alya’s chat.

MDC: You guys are gross.

_ACes: :D_

MDC: 1 hour, maybe a bit more.

_ACes: D:_

_ACes: Fine._

 

Marinette turned off her phone.

She had a plan now.

Of course, she still needed to make food, and get dressed, but after that, everything should work out just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As we can clearly see, Marinette has found her way out, and there will be no further romantic troubles for the remainder of the story, you heard it here first, folks.


	9. Blind Date?  You Mean Blind Interview, Surely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette co-opts Alya's journalist instinct to buy herself time.  
> The longer she can buy, the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: Chat Noir saying some serious stuff, and specifically not *saying* some very silly stuff.

Adrien had woken up some time previously.

He yawned, stretching out.

His back cracked satisfactorily.

He tried to sit up, and felt…

It was a struggle, but he was able to sit up.  Plagg grumbled as he tumbled off of his chest.

Adrien’s muscles were no longer numb, and he instead felt deeply _sore._

Then did that mean…

He slid the blanket off of himself, and slipped his feet off the couch.

A single deep breath.

He pushed, and groaned as his legs took the weight.

Easy.  Easy.

His legs were intensely wobbly under him, but they held him, as long as he didn’t lose his balance.

Well then.

That was an improvement, wasn’t it?

“What do you think, Plagg?”

“I think you could stand to sleep a bit longer.

“You always think that.”

“And have I ever been wrong?”

“Yes?”

“Hhrhghm.”

“What I meant was, I can stand.  How’s my recovery looking?”

Plagg looked blearily up at him.

“Mmmm.” He zipped up to Adrien’s face, and stared at him with a shrewd expression.

He poked Adrien’s forehead.

“Yeah.  You’re not ready to transform yet.  You could probably get away with it real late tonight, but you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“So… Tomorrow.”

“Sounds like it.”

“That’s good, actually,” said Adrien.  “that means I’ll get out of here at the right time to pretend I got back with everyone else.”

“Yeah, honestly, I’m surprised there’s not a warrant out for your recovery.”

Adrien laughed.  “Well… It’s not like Nathalie ever found out I’d cancelled, right?  As far as she’s concerned, I’m out with the rest of the class, and if she didn’t know, it’s not like Father would have called to check in himself.”

“Hm.”

“Alright, anyway.  I should head to the bathroom, right?”

Plagg shrugged.  “Don’t ask _me_.”

\--

Time, as it has a way of doing, slipped by.

By five minutes, Marinette had narrowly avoided seeing Chat Noir’s face as he laboriously walked down the hallway.

By 20, she looked presentable to face the day, and felt about half as ready.

By 30, she’d found a non-poultry breakfast option.

By 35, she’d found a good spot to eat with her blindfold off.

By 55, she heard Chat Noir sigh, and lean back, clearly done with his breakfast.

“Seriously, Marinette, I’ve got to pay you back for this some time.”

“Sure, next time I’m paralyzed and stuck in _your_ house, you go right ahead.”

“Do you get paralyzed a lot?”

“No.”

“Yeah… I assumed.”

He seemed almost sad at the statement.

Marinette took another bite of her breakfast.

“So,” he said, “it’s looking like I’ll have to spend another night here.  Probably my last one.  Plagg seemed to think that leaving tonight was borderline at best, but hopefully that means tomorrow is actually safe.”

“I see,” said Marinette.  “Do you think Hawkmoth is almost back as well?”

“I… I don’t know.  I’d like to think that Paris might get a few more days of peace and quiet before it’s back to business as usual, but I really don’t know.”

“I know what you mean.”

There was a long silence.

Marinette took a breath.

“Well… You know how I’m friends with Alya?  The girl who runs the Ladyblog?”

“Yeah, she’s your best friend, right?”

Marinette looked back at the couch, as if to look through it at him.  He was right, but she honestly didn’t know how he’d have come by _that_ particular tidbit.

“Well,” she said, “She was wondering why I wasn’t there, on the school trip I was supposed to go on.  And, basically, she knows you’re here?”

“Oh.  Okay?”

“And, you know how she is.  You’ve talked to her.  She was wondering if you could do a phone interview?  And I was thinking, since you’re kind of stuck here anyway, it might help pass the time, at least.”

She couldn’t see his expression, but she could hear him shift.

“Well, far be it from me to refuse,” he said, his voice inexplicably more _Chat Noir_ than it had been, “Please, get Ms. Cesaire on the phone.”

\--

It had taken of bit of maneuvering, but they’d decided to have Marinette on the couch with him, holding onto the phone.  She was blindfolded now, in what he had to admit was an excellent fabric.

“Marinette?” came the voice from the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Did he agree?”

“To an interview?  Of course!” he said.

“Ohohoho!” laughed Alya, and he could _see_ her rubbing her hands together.  “Perfect!”

“Alright, so this is perfect.  I’ve got a list of questions.  Some of them are mine, some of them are not.”

“Probably her boyfriend’s,” said Marinette, “Nino.”

“Hey,” came Nino’s voice from the other end.  He sounded almost _nervous,_ which was unexpected.

“Hi, Nino!” said Marinette.

“Hey, Marinette,” he said, and she could hear the edge of a smile in his voice.

“Alright, you ready for the questions?”

“Any time.”

“Alright,” she said, “this one is a popular one.  About your outfit; Why the bell, and the ears, and the tail?”

“Because they’re cool?  I dunno.  I guess what it is is that I kind of had them at the start on a whim, but they’ve kind of grown on me.  Not to mention Ladybug’s actually used the belt with her lucky charm, once or twice.  Still waiting on the bell.”

“Aren’t we all,” said Alya, in the tones of one distracted by the fact that they were writing something down.  “Alright.  Next up is a classic.  What is your relation to Ladybug?  We’ve gotten three or four different answers, so I figure it’s always worth asking again.”

“Oh!  Um…”

He normally counted on Ladybug being here to deny his answers so they weren’t taken as absolute fact.  Right now, though…  She wasn’t, and then there was _Marinette_ right in front of him, who had tensed as Alya had asked.

“Pass,” he said, unable to find a better answer.

There was a silence from the other end, and he heard Nino say, on the edge of hearing, ‘Can he do that?’

“Of course he can,” whispered Alya, “I’m a journalist, not an interrogator.”

Despite being blindfolded, Marinette met his eyes with a slightly doubtful expression that matched his own.  Alya might not torture for her results, but she was certainly _scarily_ persistent.  Interrogator wasn’t the worst description

“Alright,” said Alya, “next question, then.  Let’s see…  Sorry, I’m trying to pick between two.  It kind of feels like it matters which I do first.”  A silence.  “Alright.  Since Ladybug isn’t here, how would _you_ describe her?  In, let’s say, a hundred words or less?”

“Ladybug is…  Dedicated.  I’ve never seen her consider giving up.  Even in the worst situations, she’ll still grab at even the slimmest chance to pull things back.  And, the other thing is, her ability to… Well, to _do_ that, is incredible.  When I think back to the first time I met her, she didn’t know what she was doing.  _I_ didn’t know what I was doing.  And, over the past year, she’s gotten so much better than she was.  And that’s not even to say she started weak.  I could say more, but I think that’s about a hundred words, right?”

“Close enough,” said Alya, and then, she hesitated.  “Well, I was going to ask you to do the same for yourself, but… I think that’s enough of the serious questions for the moment.  I’m going to intersperse them with a few, or, not a few, of Nino’s personal questions.  I like to think that I have heart of a journalist, but Nino, say hi, Nino—”

“Hey.”

“—Nino feels a bit more like a… tabloid?  Marinette, I’m gonna need an opinion once you hear this one, yeah?”

“Okay?”

“Apparently, when Princess Fragrance attacked, you were affected by her perfume.  (I can confirm that, personally).”

“I was, yes.”

“So, a side-effect of that was… You started singing.”

“I… I kind of remember that.”

“Nino is insisting, from this video he saw _once_ and can’t even find anymore, that you had an excellent singing voice.  I believe the term he used was ‘angelic?’”

“I said that as a joke!  Once!”

“So, on the charge of having an angelic voice, Chat Noir, how do you plead?”

He stared at the phone, and the grin spread across his face.

Marinette vigorously shook her head, and not for the first time, it was hard to believe that she couldn’t actually see him.  “Don’t you dare,” she whispered.

“Uuupon this charrrrge,” he sang, “most viciously appliiiied, I have no choiiiiice, but to plead…”

There was long pause.  Unnecessarily long, in Marinette's opinion.

“Guilty,” he whispered into the phone.


	10. 4X<3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chat Noir finishes his interview.  
> Marinette accepts a new challenge.

Chat Noir was good at interviews.  Marinette didn’t know exactly where he’d gotten the skill from, but there was no denying that he was… She didn’t want to think the words ‘quick with his tongue,’ but it was as close an equivalent as she could find for ‘light on his feet.’  After his unexpectedly tactful response to Alya’s question about Ladybug, he’d had a comeback for every probing question she’d asked him, and all of the ones Nino had added.

As the interview had stretched out, it had become increasingly clear that Nino had a knack for questions that were _just_ _barely_ outside the realm of giving away identity-compromising information, and stopped just short of raising eyebrows.

Music tastes, for example; it hadn’t surprised Marinette, and she was sure Alya would have seen that coming.  Neither of them had expected Chat Noir to admit that he’d heard some of Nino’s music, and liked it.  Alya had used her own list for the next several questions, and Marinette had a feeling it was because Nino was busy freaking out in the background.

Marinette was left in the darkness, free to listen to a live interview, and only in the slightest danger of having to fill a silence when the school group went somewhere, and Alya had to relocated (Marinette was pretty sure there was some kind of educational content Alya was supposed to be paying attention to, but who cared?)

She’d been right.  This was easier than talking to Chat herself.  After a while, she lost track of the clock, and count of the questions.

Eventually, though, there had been a long, _long_ pause after a question.

“Well,” said Alya, “that was…  God, how many was that, Nino?”

“A lot,” said Nino.

“Yeah, a _lot_ of questions.  That’s got to be the longest interview I’ve ever given,” said Alya.

“She’s got three pages of notes,” said Nino.

“And her handwriting’s tiny,” said Marinette.

“My throat’s _actually_ sore,” said Alya, “I don’t think I’ve gotten a sore throat from talking too much in… Years, probably.”

“Ha!” said Chat Noir.  “Well, I’m glad to help out with the journalism process.”

“Thank you for your time,” said Alya, “that’s got to have been the best interview I’ve ever had.  And now, I’m pretty sure my class is going somewhere, so this is probably a good time to hang up.”

“Alright.  Well, it’s been great talking to you.”

“You too!”

A second longer, and nobody said anything.  Marinette took that as her cue to turn off the phone.

She poked the screen, once, twice, three times, until she heard the click of the call ending, and knew that she’d found the right spot.

Chat Noir sighed.

“Well that was fun,” he said.  “Not often I get to answer some questions as A-… civilian.”

\--

Adrien mentally shivered.  He’d almost forgotten that Marinette didn’t know who he was.  Wasn’t _supposed_ to know who he was.

Ladybug would have had his head for it.

“Well,” he said, filling the silence his near-blunder had left, “that took…  Oh, is there a clock in here?”

“I’ll…” said Marinette, pulling up her phone.  She sighed.  “ _You_ check.”

She turned the phone.

He looked down then back up at her.  “Wow, 7:30? Already?”

There was an instant of silence.  “Really?”

“A.M.?  On Monday morning?”

“Oh.”

He laughed.  “It’s actually only half past four.”

“That’s… Still actually later than I was thinking.”

“Well, you seemed kind of zoned out for most of it.”

“It’s the blindfold,” said Marinette.

“Aha,” he said, “well then, I suppose it’s up to me to make sure you don’t fall asleep.”

“… What?”

He tried to pretend he hadn’t noticed how suggestive that had come off.  “So how about this,” he said, plowing onward, “we find the most convoluted, backwards movie in your library, and I’ll watch it with no context, and you’ll have to make sure I don’t completely lose track of what’s going on.”

“Oh no,” said Marinette, almost inaudibly.

“What?” said Adrien.

“Um…” said Marinette.  “Well… The thing about ‘The most convoluted backwards movie in my library,’ is… Well, it’s not a movie, first of all.”

“Oh.  Okay,” he said, slowly.

“It’s a show.  And…”  Her face twisted slightly, almost apologetically.

“Listen,” she said, “Alya brought it over, like, a _month_ ago.  She said it was the funniest thing she’d ever seen, and we _had_ to watch it immediately.  She stayed the night and didn’t take it home.  Since then, she’s _refused_ to take it home.”

“Okay?” he said, now properly intrigued.

“It’s… It’s called, ‘Four times in love.’  It’s about these two people who…” She shook her head.  “Wait.  You wanted no context to start with.  If you can change the input on the TV, you’ll just need to find the box.”

Adrien, not quite sure what he’d gotten himself into, walked up to the TV.

It was pretty obvious what Marinette was talking about, almost immediately.

‘Four Times In _Love’_ read the box, the title white, with ‘Love’ in bright red.  ‘He loves her, but she doesn’t love him… Or DOES SHE?’ read the subtitle.

He turned it over, and was practically assaulted by the cover image.  A man and a woman in a tight embrace, both clearly smitten.  The half of the background behind the woman was bright, colorful lights, as if she was in a dance club, but _she_ was wearing plain clothes, business attire.  The man, meanwhile, was wearing an elaborate mask, and a stylish suit, practically dressed for a masquerade, but behind _him_ was an office scene.  Above the two, “4X<3” reminded a viewer of what they were looking at.

It looked like _exactly_ the kind of thing Father would never have let him watch.

His eyes lit up at the sight of it.

\--

From her perch on the couch, Marinette could hear the TV turn on, DVD player open.

It was a shame, really, that of all the senses she had to be deprived of, it was her sight.  This show wasn’t the best on the acting, but the visuals were fun, since a lot of the scenes took place in a dance club.  Not to mention it was hard to tell who was who… Not who was who, they were the _same person._   Which persona they were using. (Seriously, how did neither of them recognize the other’s voice?)

The commercials were starting.

Well, complications or no, she’d have to figure it out as she went.  Chat Noir had given her a challenge, and she wasn’t about to back down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For real, I kind of want this show, now. I mean, I kind of have it, but also, I'm intrigued by this world I've created, even if it is a blatant knockoff.


	11. It's not a triangle.  It's a square.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chat Noir is, whatever he may suggest, a hopeless sap.

_“I’m Janice Grand.  That’s me.  No, not the woman in the front.  I’m the one in the back, taking notes.  You’d be forgiven for not seeing me.  Nobody seems to.”_

Marinette could feel the couch creak as Chat Noir leaned straightened up slightly.

 _“My life is a little bit boring.  Or… That’s what everyone thinks, anyway.  They’d be wrong, because when the day ends, I’ve got my own special way of unwinding.”_ Marinette could hear the motion blurred cut.

Closing her eyes under the blindfold, she could _see_ Calamity Sal, Sandra’s masked alter-ego, appearing in a doorway, with, she had to chuckle, a flash of _lightning_ behind her.  That shot stayed in the opening, even in later episodes.

_“I’ve made a name for myself as the hottest dancer this side of hell.  Well, the hottest, with one exception.”_

\--

Another blurred transition revealed an imposing figure, dressed in a brilliant scarlet, even down to the cape (He had a _cape._ Adrien had never even _considered_ a cape on his outfit, but he _wanted_ one now).

_“Flare.  The one man who even stands a chance against me on the dance floor.  And… My biggest secret, even bigger than my identity, is… I’m in love with him.”_

Adrien leaned forward in his seat, chin up on a fist, eyes wide.

_“But nobody knows who he is.”_

\--

Chat Noir let out an almost inaudible, _‘Ohhhh.’_

Marinette rolled her eyes, but didn’t manage to stifle a smile.  She should have known he’d be instantly hooked.

_“I’m hoping that one day, maybe I’ll be close enough to learn his secret.”_

There was no opening.  Marinette supposed that made sense, since the opening kind of gave away the twist at the end of the first episode.  (Well, twist was generous; it was pretty obvious)

“Okay,” said Chat Noir, “so… It’s an office?  This is where she works, right?”

“Yeah,” said Marinette, “she’s pretty easy to pick out, because she has the same ponytail.”

“Okay, so that’s her, and…”

 _“Oh, come on Sandy, you’ve_ got _to come!  Seriously, there’s this new dancer there, ‘Calamity Sal.’  She’s amazing.”_

_“Sorry, Jan, but I’ve got stuff to do at home!”_

“So, Jan is…?”

“One of her best friends.  She’s mostly there to keep giving Sandy invitations to things she has to come up with excuses not to go to.”

“Aha.  Things where’s she’s already going to be as Calamity Sal, I assume.”

“Exactly.”

_“Hey, Sandy.”_

_“Hey, Jason.”_

_“I… I had a question…”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Aha.  But… I forgot what it was.”_

_“You do that a lot, don’t you?”_

_“Hmm,” an unhappy agreement._   _“Well.  Since I can’t remember, I guess I should just say have a nice day, right?”_

_“I guess so.”_

_“Well… Have a nice day, Sandy.”_

_“You too, Jason.”_

_A muttered, ‘Stupid,’ from Jason as he walked away, shaking his head._

“Jason is…” she said, and then stifled the answer she’d intended to give.  “Jason is a guy with a bit of a crush on her.”

“Got it,” said Chat Noir, “he’s there to add a bit of a love triangle, I guess.”

“Something like that,” said Marinette.

Triangles had the wrong number of sides.

There was a reason this show was called ‘4 Times in Love.’

\--

Adrien sat there, enraptured.

The scenes in the office were dull, of course, but on the dancefloor… Flashing lights, cinematic dancing, and a deadly serious rivalry between Calamity Sal and Flare that left him shaking.  The way the actress looked at him was equal parts deadly and smitten.

The show began in the days leading up to some big competition, where the two of them were the only competitors really worth mentioning.  In preparation, they seemed to use their time… Almost sparring, dancing in close proximity, constantly trying to 1-up each other.

Then, two new dancers had shown up, a duo, proclaiming themselves the greatest dance spectacle around.  It was only practice, but Flare and Sal, unable to let it stand, had danced together to defeat them.

For Flare, it was pure business, but Sal, when it was over, had changed in her room, and was clearly breathtaken as she removed her mask.

The next day, they had shown the end of another day at work.

Jan had gushed about what had happened the previous day, about the amazing chemistry the two dancers had had, while Sandy had sat there, flattered, but unable to admit it or explain why.

Once again, Jason had come up to her.

He, offered her a ticket to the big competition she was already competing in.  The irony wasn’t lost on Adrien.

She, of course, turned it down.

He nodded, clearly abashed at the rejection (even though he’d made it clear the seat was by itself, and it wouldn’t be a date).

He’d walked away, and the camera had followed him.

The camera looked over his shoulder, as he’d put the ticket away in his coat pocket, and… left it there for a second.  Then, walking out of the building, he’d pulled out…

A scarlet mask.

Adrien’s jaw practically dropped.

“ _What,”_ he said, turning to look at Marinette.  She was grinning back at him, clearly amused by his reaction.

“I said this was the most complicated show I had.  The production values are awful, but trust me, you start to lose track of why they can’t tell each other what.”

 _“He’s_ Flare?”

She nodded.

“And… She likes him.”

“Mhm.”

“But… But he also likes _her!”_

“Mhm.”

“But!  But…  Oh…”

“Yup.”

He rubbed at his chin.

“How many episodes are there?”

“Enough.  I’m pretty sure it’s online for free, so don't worry if you don't finish it while you're here.”

The next episode was starting, and Adrien couldn’t wait.


	12. Drunken Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette didn't get much sleep last night.  
> She's got to catch up sometime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, this wasn't quite how I expected this chapter to go, but I'm satisfied with it.

Marinette had already watched this show, but she was pretty sure Chat Noir understood it better than she did.

The episodes were kind of formulaic.  Usually, the difference between each was that their club was doing some different kind of dancing that night, or someone new showed up, or…  Sometimes, it turned out that what their business was doing interfered with their dancing lives.

Chat Noir _loved_ it.  By the third episode, he was humming along with the theme.  By the fifth, he was singing it under his breath.  (Nino hadn’t been entirely wrong.  He _did_ have a good singing voice.)

He’d sounded almost panicked when the first disc had ended until Marinette had reminded him that there were more discs.

At first, he had questions for everything, even things that were about to be explained in the show.

But… As the show went on, he slowly seemed less and less conscious of his surroundings.

She was pretty sure she heard him gasp when Flare had offered to dance with Sandy, out of her costume.

God, that scene was so unnecessarily sappy.

Marinette leaned back against the couch.

She really was tired…

\--

It was a quiet scene.  Jason and Sal were commiserating about their respective relationship troubles.  It felt like they were so close to actually _explaining_ things, but… No.  No such luck.

He felt something on his leg.

He looked down, and saw Marinette.  The very top of her head had grazed his leg as she’d lain down.  She shimmied herself away a bit, with a murmured apology.

He wanted to say something, to offer up a jaunty reminder that they’d started watching this so she _wouldn’t_ fall asleep.

The words wouldn’t come to his mouth, though.  She just seemed so… peaceful, curled up on the couch.

“Marinette,” he said, softly, poking a finger at her temple.

“Mmm,” she said, and he doubted her eyes had even moved under the blindfold.

“Huh,” he said, almost a laugh.  She really was out of it, wasn’t she?

Jason and Sal were sitting at the last open table at the club, at what was supposed to be far past midnight.

He sighed, finger absently scratching at the edge of Marinette’s hair.

She… Giggled, if giggling was so gentle it was almost inaudible.  It felt as if he’d just drunk hot chocolate.  His entire stomach was full of warmth at that sound.

“That feels nice,” she murmured.

‘Hm,” he said, scratching a bit further back.

It wasn’t like he was in danger of losing track of the show.

Jason and Sal said their goodbyes, clearly sad about their fates, but better for being able to share it.

\--

It was… Well, it made sense.

Chat Noir had claws, but he wasn’t exactly ‘Chat Noir’ right now.  He was… Whoever he usually was.

His hands still felt strangely human.  So… Gentle.  No claws.

Marinette would have admitted she wasn’t exactly thinking straight.  Of course she wasn’t.  She was half-asleep.

Make it… Three quarters.

And that slow scratch at her scalp, almost a tickle.

She let out a low hum, and, without really thinking about it, slipped herself a little closer.

She felt… Safe.

She didn’t know when exactly she fell asleep.

…

Marinette didn’t wake up, as such.  Instead, the contents of her dreams slowly reformed into reality.  Quiet voices.  A tickle on her cheek.  That all-consuming warmth.

Her eyes flickered open.  The sky outside was dark.

She felt that same soft sensation on her cheek, a finger slipping in soft circles.

She knew the scene on the screen.  It was the scene where Sal, finally, after so long, managed to admit that she _liked_ Flare, to his face.

The first time she’d watched it, it had seemed overdone, but, right now…

Her eyes turned, and she saw…

Chat Noir, looking down at her.  She managed to make out a soft smile, and his eyes, shining.

He realized her eyes were open.

“Ah!  Marinette,” he said, his hand sliding over, and pulling the blindfold up.  “I’m so sorry, the blindfold came off when you moved, and I didn’t want to risk waking you up, and…”

“Shhh…” she said, a gentle smile on her face, unable to muster a further response.  “It’s okay.  It’s too dark in here to see anything.”

“Oh,” he said.  “Really?”

“Really,” she said.  “I was staring at the screen, too.  I might as well be blind.”

“Well… That’s a relief,” he said.

“I’m surprised,” she murmured, “you weren’t watching.  It’s kind of a big moment.”

“Huh,” he said, almost a laugh, “I guess.  I just… I was too busy looking at you.”

“Mhm,” she said, “and here I thought you were really loving the show.”

“I am,” he said, and she felt herself shift slightly as he laughed.  She was… Her head was in his lap.  She didn’t know how she’d gotten there, but she felt too comfortable right now to leave.  “But… I think I like _you_ more.”

“Is that so,” she said, knowing now that she wasn’t quite awake, “you’re sure you’re not just doing some of that famous Chat Noir smooth talking?”

He laughed again, almost despairingly.  “Positive.”

She looked up, and then… Sat up.

“Wait.  You’re… Serious?”

He let out a breath, and his expression, what little she could make out of it with his face a blur in the darkness, was pained.

“I really like you, Marinette.”

She stared, eyes bleared, mind slowed by sleep.

The words didn’t come from her mind, though.

“Chat Noir…” she said.

“Yes?”

“Chat Noir…” she chuckled, a slow smile creeping onto her face.  She reached out a hand, and ran a finger along his cheekbone.

He leaned into her hand, eyes closing for a moment.

Then, quietly, he placed his hand on hers, and softly pulled her hand away, still holding it.

He let go, though, and his head fell forward against his hand.  “You’re amazing, Marinette.”

She giggled.

“And…” he said, sighing, “Probably very tired.”

“Yeah…” she said.

He sighed, again, “Probably, if I had to guess, so tired that you’re not even sure what’s coming out of your mouth.”

She laughed, softly.  “Yeah… I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Well,” he said, seeming to resign himself.  “Well, you’d better get up.”

\--

He knew Marinette, and this didn’t seem like her.  Maybe, she meant what she was saying.  Maybe.  Certainly, he’d thought she had a crush on him.

But… If she did mean it, she’d mean it tomorrow, and the next day.

He pushed himself to his feet, and found the motion almost easy.

He reached out his hand, and she took it, pulling herself upright.  He thought he could make out a glimmer of her normal wits, then.

He reached down, and took the blindfold.

They walked out of the living room, and he stopped at the base of the ladder.

“You’d better head up,” he said.

She sighed.  “Yeah.”

As she climbed up, he nodded, slowly, and after a moment, started back towards the living room.

Maybe he’d finish up the episode before he got some sleep.


	13. A New Color of Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll let you read this one for yourselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice, double length chapter to finish things off.

Marinette didn’t know _why_ she’d been so tired.  Maybe her body had decided to catch up on the days of sleep she’d lost from overdue homework and hero work.  Maybe not.

All she knew was that she woke up, feet where her head usually was, on top of her blankets, wearing her normal clothes, with, she’d wager, her hair in all kinds of disorder.

Blearily, she rolled out of bed, clambering down the ladder.

“Tikki?” she said, hoping the kwami was around.

“Marinette?”

“Hey, Tikki,” she said, voice the scratchy way it sometimes got when she just woke up.

“How do you feel?”

“Uh…  Actually, not too bad.  Why?”

“Well, you kind of collapsed last night when you got to bed.”

“Yeah… I was tired.”

“Did something happen?”

“Uh…  Well, Chat Noir did an interview, and then, he suggested we watch a complicated movie so I’d have to explain it.  I kind of did, for a while, but then…”

Her mind was rejecting the memories she was informed were correct.

She’d fallen asleep, that much was certain.  Surely he hadn’t said… And she hadn’t… Her face was flushing, and it wasn’t entirely an unhappy flush.  It was the burning heat of a memory she couldn’t quite process, but desperately wanted to.

No, no.  That had to have been a dream, some fever dream concocted by her subconscious from the confused thoughts she’d been trying to avoid.

“Marinette?” said Tikki.

“Wh-  Oh.  Sorry, I, um… I think my mind’s playing tricks on me, Tikki.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I remember Chat Noir saying he liked me.  And I… I didn’t exactly reject him.  At all.  But, I think that must have been a dream.”

And then, he’d sent her away, so she could think about it when she wasn’t so sleepy.  At least, that’s what her memory was saying.

“You could go ask him?”

“I…” she looked at the clock.  “I should probably go quickly.  I wanted to meet Alya when she was getting in.”

“Right!” said Tikki, “then there’s no time to waste.”

“Alright,” said Marinette.

She grabbed her phone, checked the messages; nothing special, just her parents mentioning that they’d be getting in around 5, and a text from Alya talking about the interview.  That was nothing urgent.

She pulled open the trapdoor, and headed…

There was a folded piece of paper on the top step.

She carefully took it, and opened it.

_“Marinette,_

_I was going to say something like this in person, but I guess you really needed your sleep, and the only reason nobody’s been looking for me is that I got lucky with my schedule.  Today, the gap I’ve been hiding in runs out, and I’ll need to get back and hope nobody noticed (here’s hoping, right?)_

_Anyway.  I don’t know if you remember anything from last night; you were kind of out of it.  I want you to know, though, that I meant what I said.  You really are amazing Marinette, and anyone with the contacts to get a show like Four Times in Love has to be doing something right (Tell Alya I said thanks for giving it to you, alright?)_

_But I’m getting distracted again.  I probably won’t be able to work up the nerve to come visit you again for a while; certainly not as Chat Noir.  But, you’ll see me, of course, and I sometimes see you in civilian life (I think I’m allowed to say that).  And, if nothing else, we see each other a lot, for how big Paris is.  Maybe we’ll end up in the same place again soon.  I hope so._

_And when we see each other again, I hope you’ll have thought about what I said a little bit._

_Chat Noir”_

Marinette finished reading the message, and looked over at Tikki.

“I guess he had to go.”

Tikki nodded, gently.

“And it looks like your mind wasn’t tricking you.”

“No… No it wasn’t.  I think… I think it still isn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, nothing,” she said, shaking her head.  She would have to think a little more, even before she explained things to Tikki.  “If I’m going to meet Alya at the bus, I should probably get going.”

“Right!”

\--

Adrien had an advantage.  Monday, since most people were away on a class trip, was technically optional, unless a student had major outstanding work to complete.  Adrien did not, but nobody looked twice as a black clad figure slipped in through the bathroom window, and Adrien Agreste slipped out.

He quietly collected his things from the locker room, and sat back to wait.

The buses were supposed to arrive in… 20 minutes.

He checked his phone.

Nino had left 2 messages.

_NLahiffe:  Let me guess_

_NLahiffe: Your old man wouldn’t let you go?_

That was it.

Adrien: Yup.  Sorry, something came up.

Right, and if his father thought he’d gone, he’d expect him to know what had happened.

Adrien pulled up the itinerary and started cramming as much as he could about the places he’d supposedly been.

\--

Marinette arrived at the school, timed almost perfectly.

The first bus was unloading, and Marinette slipped through the small crowd of cars waiting for students.

Now, she’d been slated for the second bus, with Alya, since Alya was her roommate.  Nino would probably be there too, since they’d been together for the interview.

A crowd of students unloaded, but Marinette stood her ground, as they streamed past her.

There was a high pitched, excited shout, and she knew even before Alya practically tackled her that she’d been spotted.

“You’ve got to tell me _everything,_ ” came an almost predatory whisper in her ear.

Nino laughed.  “She means ‘hi.’ But also, yeah, I want to hear about it.  Also, hi Marinette.”

“Hey guys,” laughed Marinette as Alya practically lifted her off the ground.

“Listen, I know Nino’s mom’s willing to let him come over _now,_ so can I count you in?  I have _questions._ ”

“What, more already?”

“Duh!  I only had an hour to get the last ones ready!”

“Oh hey, dude!” said Nino.

“Oh, hey,” said Adrien, “Alya, Nino. Marinette.”

“Oh, hi, Adrien,” said Marinette.

“I’d love to stick around and talk,” said Adrien, “but Nathalie will have my head if I make her wait.  I’ll catch you guys in school tomorrow though, right?”

“Of course, dude!” said Nino, as Adrien practically bolted.

“Well then, Marinette, can we count you in?”

Marinette looked at them, slowly.  Finally, she sighed, smiling.  “Alright, but you’ve got to realize, I was blindfolded for most of it.”

…

Marinette did think about things.

She had a mind built for overthinking, designed to find dozens of contingencies for every issue, and this was no different.

By the time a week had passed, she’d turned her own mind into a tangled ball of yarn over everything.

Maybe it was like what had happened with Luka.  Maybe she was paralyzed like she’d been then.  Or maybe, she knew an answer, but couldn’t make herself admit it.

Oh, to be Kagami right now.  Kagami would have told her not to hesitate again.

She even considered getting advice from her.  After all, it wouldn’t be exactly friendly, or nice, but it would be decisive, and she could use decisive right now.

She could use decisive, because the memory of Chat Noir’s face in her hand had a nasty habit of turning her brain to mush at the most inopportune times.

Then, of course, there was Chat Noir himself.

He’d been quiet.  He hadn’t outright said anything about her; Marinette, that was to say, as opposed to Ladybug.  He hadn’t been unhappy, though.  It was as if her conversations with him had simply been trimmed down, purged, somewhat, of the dashing manner she was accustomed to.

It was just past a week when things went… Well, when things _went._

Gigantitan had reappeared, rampaging through Paris on the hunt for cake.

Ladybug and Chat Noir, as always, had appeared to stop him.

And that was when Marinette made a critical mistake.

She took the pacifier.  She took August’s pacifier.

Landing back on her balcony, she detransformed, and was about to head inside, when…

“Marinette.”

She froze, because Chat Noir was right behind her, and she was… She was Marinette.

She turned, slowly, to face him.

“I…” he said.  “I wasn’t planning on visiting, but… It’s like I said, right?  For how big this city is, we keep meeting.”  He took a breath.  “I was actually _looking_ for Ladybug.  Gigantitan, um… He’s a normal baby again, and he wants his pacifier.”

“Oh!” Said Marinette, “Right.  Well,” she pulled it out from behind herself.  “Actually… Ladybug left it with me, so that… So that I could give it to you.”

“First taking care of me and now this, huh?  You really seem to be Ladybug’s go-to.  If I didn’t know better, I’d say…”

His face slowly contorted as if he was churning through a thought.  Marinette panicked, because the _real_ reason that Ladybug trusted her was because, well, she _was_ her.

“I love you, Chat Noir.”

Chat Noir froze.

Marinette froze, too.  She was surprised at the words, for a second.  Then, surprised to find that she didn’t regret them.  She didn’t want to explain that, no, she didn’t mean that, or that she’d panicked, or anything to make him think she hadn’t meant it.  It felt as if keeping him from finding out her identity had only been secondary, despite what she’d believed as she’d said it.

“You mean it?” he said, stepping forward.  The baby under his arm seemed to almost have picked up a bit of the awe in his voice, going silent.

“I…” Marinette, “I do.”

Chat Noir shut his eyes, and when he opened them, they were shining.

He laughed, voice shaking.

“I… I love you too, Marinette.”

Marinette’s stomach went weak.

“And… You’re not about to pass out this time, right?”

She laughed, falling slightly onto the rail.  “If I pass out this time, it’ll be because I just said that, not the other way around.”

“Well, if you pass out, this time I’ll be strong enough to help you up.”

“You’d better get ready then,” she said, “I’m pretty sure I’m about to go.”

He took the last step towards her.

“Better safe than sorry, right?” he said, and his arm, superhumanly steady, was around her waist.

“I suppose you’re right,” she said, staring up into his eyes.  “But… Then again, aren’t you the kind to take risks?”

“Is that a challenge?” he said, smiling, “Because I know a girl who taught me that challenges are serious business.”

“I think it was,” she said.

He grinned.  “You’re on, Dupain-Cheng.”

He leaned in.

Seconds passed.

Marinette’s hand snuck up, fingers sliding through his hair, and she could feel him almost laugh at the sensation.

Finally he pulled away, and Marinette wasn’t sure she’d remember how to breath again.

“Well?” said Chat Noir, “did I win?”

A small laugh, more breath than sound, escape Marinette.

The sound turned into a giggle.  “I know I did.”

Chat Noir smiled wide, looking away.

Then, with a volume and pitch that made both of them jump, August started screaming, and they were back in the present.

“Hi,” said her father, and the present seemed to freeze, and shatter.

He laughed, nervously.  “Sorry, I was coming up to make sure you were okay, but I guess you were kind of busy, huh?”

“Uhh…” said Marinette.

“Well, I’ll admit, I’m a little surprised, but!” he clapped his hands together.  “Let me be the first to say, not upset.  You’ve always struck me as an upstanding young man, Chat Noir, and my wife has said the same.  Honestly, I think I _have_ to make sure you come by for Sunday dinner, or she’ll have my head!”  He laughed, a rich sound.

Marinette and Chat Noir looked at each other.

“I’ll make macarons!”

Chat Noir let out a soft, “ohhh.”

“Well,” he said, sticking the pacifier into the baby’s mouth, “I don’t know if it’ll even be possible, but trust me, if there’s a way, I’ll find it.”

“Excellent!”

Chat Noir looked back down for a second, eyes almost glowing.

“Well…” he said, “I’ll see you then, Marinette.”

“You’ll see _all_ of us,” she said.

He looked over at her father for a second, then back at her.  He seemed to consider something, and  then said, grinning, “I might only have eyes for you.”

Her father laughed again.  “A charmer, too!  You’ll get along just fine with Sabine.”

\--

The upcoming week was one of the most terrifying he’d ever had.

He felt the risk of exposing his identity to Marinette repeatedly.  It would have been so much easier, too, since, recently, she seemed to find it so much easier to talk to him.

He’d held back, though, and managed to _not_ flirt with her, since, after all, she was in a relationship with someone else (even if that someone was him).

Plagg, of all people, had been _exceedingly_ happy about things.  Well, more like relieved.  He seemed to have been sick of Adrien’s pining after Ladybug, or… Well, he kept deflecting Adrien’s questions, but he was _pretty_ sure.

…

The day finally arrived, and for once, his father failing, once again, to show up for dinner, was cause for celebration.  He hadn’t _wanted_ to miss this, and now he didn’t have to.

He stared down at the pink rose on his dinner tray.

Maybe he should bring it, for Marinette.  That would be appropriate, right?

Except.

A pink rose.

It seemed like the right idea, wrongly executed.

He started on his way.

\--

Marinette had almost wondered if he wouldn’t be able to make it, but couldn’t help letting out a laugh as she saw him bounding over the rooftops.

She rushed downstairs, and waited, patiently, for the doorbell to ring.

Finally, after what felt like a short eternity, the bell rang, and, taking a deep breath, she opened.

There before her stood Chat Noir, with a single, red, rose.

“Good evening, Marinette,” he said.

“Good evening, Chat Noir.”

 

-The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this story, with its loveable idiots, and their shenanigans.
> 
> This is where I usually suggest something of my own that you might like if you enjoyed this. I think the only one that makes sense for this is 'Frozer: Alternate Ending.'  
> Comparatively short, very fluffy, (And I kind of wish I could change the name). It's an Adrienette story that had a penchant for driving people up the wall from frustration. The good news is you won't be waiting for the updates.


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